


Just Another Manic Monday

by karrenia_rune



Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: Community: oldschoolfic, Episode Related, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-14
Updated: 2012-09-14
Packaged: 2017-11-14 06:00:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/512080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karrenia_rune/pseuds/karrenia_rune
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A chief inspector gets just enough of  lead into mysterious beheadings followed up by freak lighting storms that lead him to believe something strange is going on, in the meantime Ducan and Tessa have to deal with the consequences of having a showing of her artwork vandalized. Trouble, they call this Monday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Another Manic Monday

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Brightknightie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brightknightie/gifts).



Title: Just Another Manic Monday  
Fandom: Highlander: the Series  
Author: karrenia_rune  
Recipient: brightknightie  
Words: 1870  
Characters: Duncan/Tessa, cameos of others  
Summary: in the wrong song, but the lyrics still fit...  
beta: jill

Disclaimer: Highlander: the Series belongs to Panzer/Davis as do all of the characters who appear here or are mentioned and takes place around Season 2 so Tessa is still alive and Richie is still a pre-Immortal; the story was written for brightknightie in the 2010 Old School Spring Fling.

“Just Another Manic Monday” by karrenia

Seacouver, Washington,

Tessa Noel reached up and flattened the palm of her hand just above the top of her eyes so that position of the sun in the sky overhead did not give off so much glare and block her view.

The early spring breeze once more shifted direction, blowing subtle patterns through her hair. Standing beside her, Richie Ryan shifted his weight from one foot to the other, mustering as much patience as he could; but he could not hold out forever.

“Come on, Tess. We’ve been over this for what feels like a hundred times. Mac’s cooking and it’s getting late and I’m starving!” Richie griped irritably.

“Just give me a moment more,” replied Tessa.

In her mind’s eye she was in the process of gauging and balancing the angles and dimensions of several angular and asymmetrical sculptures that she had created specifically for the park.

She had won a rather fierce competition to be the featured artist. Tessa, to her own way of thinking, did not particularly care for the municipal director who was overseeing the project; she just wanted everything to be just so; because aside from the overall aesthetic merit; it would be her name on those pieces and she wanted everything to be perfect.

Meanwhile, shifting his weight from one foot to another, her young companion waited with a palpable imperfect patience. In the back of his mind Richie was well aware with how much pain-staking work that Tessa put into her work, but it was getting late and Richie was filled with a tearing urge to go, do and was becoming a bit, well, bored.

“Okay, okay,” griped Richie, “but that’s what you said ten minutes ago.”

“Patience, Richie. It wouldn’t kill you to learn some, you know?” Tessa turned her head and flashed a dazzling smile at the young man in an effort designed to both soften the blow of her harsh words and to calm him down.

If Duncan MacLeod wanted to take the troubled young man and give both a roof over his head and a three square meals, among other things; she had decided that she would be willing to accept it.

For the most part, while the arrangement at first had considered to be on a temporary basis; over the past year or two had become steadily more permanent. Mac generally cared for the kid beyond his physical well-being and even Tessa had become quite fond of him.

He still had quite a few rough edges, but there was a promise there. Aloud she said. “But you’re right, it is getting late and we should be getting back.”

“Okay,” Richie replied. “And, you know what, Tess, Because I don’t know much about art, but I do know what I like, and this is some pretty radical stuff. You know?”

“Thank you, Richie. Tessa smiled and turned as they both walked back to the edge of the park where they had left Tessa’s car.  
***  
Following the clues is never as simple as getting from point A to point B, most of the cases that Detective Roger Brunon had worked on first as a young and ambitious trainee in Seattle’s rank and file of police officers had taught him that lesson early on.

Among many others it had served him well as he worked his way up the ranks and finally his record had spoken for itself.  
That posting had been the feather in his cap, and yet, there would always be the itch, the kind of itch that made some aspect of a case cause all of the fine hairs at the back of his neck stand on end.

A sensationalist article in the papers had picked up the story and ran with it, and while he had been working in the vice squad for many years,; even a beheading that had taken place in the outskirts of the city of Seattle was not enough to hold the interest of the general public when there was so much else going on; both good and bad.

Eventually the article about the murder of an unidentified man who had been found lying beside his own severed head was forgotten but almost everyone; except for him.

The police had a term for such unsolved mysteries: cold cases. These almost always ended up being documented, filed away and eventually forgotten. Procedure and his supervisors would tell him to drop it, shove it in among all the other unsolved cases would it gather dust in some metal file cabinet somewhere.

But he could not let this one go, it simply went against his nature to let it go. He would know why, and he would find out who; and with any luck, the unsolved questions would finally be answered.

Or there was one person that Brunon had been meaning to question, but somehow either he simply quite got around to it.

Duncan MacLeod. The man simply had an uncanny knack for showing up in the middle of a crime scene, and yet after close questioning always had either an alibi or some other plausible excuse for his presence. It had become extremely aggravating and now maybe even a personal challenge.

He could perhaps work one angle toward his own benefit; MacLeod had at least three close friends that he could pump for information: The blond artist, Tessa Noel, the punk kid, Richie Ryan, at finally the third individual in Macleod’s life. One Joe Dawson who seemed to be more of acquaintance at this point; that just left the woman and the kid.

The statute of limitations being what they were Detective Brunon was well aware that if he were to make a case against the man he had best do it soon, because time was running out.  
**  
The following morning Tessa had gone out to the discuss some last minute details with the municipal director of parks and recreation who was overseeing the addition of her pieces to the park, accompanied this time by Duncan.

It was late, just shortly before dusk the shadows lengthing across the manicured lawns and tree-lined paths while Duncan spoke to Tessa about other negotiating tactics that she might take with Director Oliver Cooke.

Tessa reached up and ran one hand through her wavy blond hair when she paused and while her own fatigue from the lateness of the hour and emotionally wrung out from the arguing and the general intractably of  
bureaucrats in general; might be causing her to see things that we not there: saw movement out of the corner of her eye behind the sculpture at the farthest remove from where they stood.

At that precise moment the clang of an aerosol can hitting the concrete pavement and Tessa dashed forward until she stood in front of her last sculpture, a look of both shock and anger suddenly clouding her features. The evidence that someone had been tampering with her artwork was clear. A series of jagged red and black streaks had been emblazoned over the surface of one of the angular planes.

Duncan had caught up with her and the anger that shown so clear from her own blues eyes was echoed in his dark ones. “Somehow I don’t believe this was some case of random graffiti artist, but, Tessa, you realize that we can’t rule it out completely,” he said.

“I realize that, Duncan,” but why now, when we’re so close to the scheduled public showing?”

“Whoever did this was most likely trying to scare you away.” he replied.

Wondering again if whom he was attempting to convince by his earlier comment about a local graffiti artist, affiliated or not with a street gang trying to make a name for himself; or if something much more dangerous and possibly more complicated was at work here.

Duncan had chosen, fully aware of the possible consequences and risks of revealing his own Immortality to Tessa, who had surprised him time and again both her capacity for love and understanding of those risks. As she said then,. As long as she knew and accepted the risks going, then whatever came at least she had gone into it willingly.

He admired and loved her for that. It was a rare combination.

“I will find out who did this,” Tessa griped. “They won’t get away with it!”

“Agreed,” he replied. “But don’t you know think it would be best to wait until morning to report it to the police, and then we’ll get a fresh start?”

Tessa slowly nodded and then turned to him placing her hands in his. “Agreed.”  
***

The following morning Duncan was rather surprised to not have to go the police station to report the vandalism because a member of Seacouver’s finest chose to show up at his door.

“Duncan MacLeod, I presume. You are a very difficult man to locate. Allow me to introduce myself, my name is Detective Roger Brunon and I’ve been looking forward to meeting you for a very long time.”

Duncan stood half-in and half-out of his open door, plastering a pleasant smile onto his face. “What is this about, Detective?”

“Might I ask permission to come inside. Bear in mind, you haven’t done anything wrong, I would just like to ask you a few questions.”

“I’m not certain I like the implication,” replied Duncan.

“The feeling is quickly becoming mutual,” Brunon replied. “I realize, that while I really don’t have the jurisdiction to question you without a warrant….”

“Then this discussion is closed. As far as I’m concerned. Duncan replied, folding his arms across his chest.

“Mr. MacLeod, I had heard reports from fellow officers that you had a distinct reputation for being intractable. Please, humor me, if you will.”

“What do you want?” demanded Duncan.

“A moment of your time, and possibly your help in shedding some light on on-going investigation into a series of unsolved murders,” Brunon replied. “Is that clear enough for you?”

“Is there any reason why you should think that I would know anything about such things. I’m an antique dealer not a forensics expert.”

Brunon smiled. “I know, but I have reason to believe that your name pops up with disturbing regularity at more than a few crime scenes of late. I suppose you wish me to believe that it’s merely a coincidence right?”

“A coincidence, exactly,” Duncan grinned.

From the far back room where Tessa had her studio she called out: “Duncan, Is everything all right?”

He called back, “Everything’s fine”

Brunon sighed and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his coat and sighed. “Fine, play it your way, and then turned and went back the way he had come, wondering, at this late remove, if maybe, just maybe his instincts had led him astray this once; but the nagging sensation that he was on the right track would not go away.


End file.
